Jacqueline Druga - Fallout

“We have a lot of manpower at these health camps,” General Liu said. “We need to move some around. The sick aren’t going anywhere. We have rebel activity up near Austin and our docks are getting hit daily down at Corpus Christi. Our men are tired. We have relief troops on the ships in the gulf. Let’s move those men in. Focus on these rebel…” He stopped talking and lifted his head when the doors to his office opened.

Fen walked in with four of her agents.

“Agent Shu, what can I do for you?” he asked.

She tried to stifle a smile, but it was hard to do. She looked smug. “General Liu, you are relieved of duty.”

“What?” he asked shocked.

“You were warned. You are charged with insubordination, sympathizing with the enemy, and treason. A field court martial has been issued. Evidence has been presented to our government leaders and you were found guilty of these crimes and you have been sentenced to death, at dawn, by a firing squad of your peers.” She looked at the agents to the left and her right. “Arrest and detain him.”

Sergeant Hung took a step toward Liu as they grabbed him.

“Sergeant,” she called out. “You are his assistant. Do we need to investigate you as well?”

Sergeant Huang stepped back.

“Thank you. Gentleman, I will have a replacement tomorrow.” She made eye contact with General Liu as he walked by her, then she followed, wishing the men in the room a good day, as she pulled the doors closed behind her.

He had given all that he had left of him. His time, his concentration, his heart, but Petrov couldn’t sit on it any longer.

The time was at hand. It was time to make a decision and it was one he didn’t take lightly.

Prime Minister Winslet bailed on him. She was onboard until the last minute when she stated her constituents didn’t want to get involved and that she had citizens abroad that she wanted to bring home. When she did that, she opened up her harbor to receive goods from the United States. Not that it was enough to stop the chaos over food, but in Petrov’s mind it was enough to keep England under China’s control.

Winslet believed staying neutral and working with China was for the best. Or so she said.

It was what was best for the United States.

Petrov strongly disagreed.

China had finally admitted to the invasion and declared a strong victory.

There were still strong United States Military hubs out there. They had already successfully succeeded in disruption diversions, liberation of camps and releasing numerous small towns from the China stronghold.

It wasn’t much, but it was more than anyone expected.

Petrov had been in touch constantly with the head of their resistance operation. Now the general needed him again, this time bigger, this time to make a difference.

Until he heard otherwise, until he heard of an unconditional surrender, he was going to believe that the takeover was still hostile, and the United States was in need and wanted assistance as General Welch stated.

The problem was, no one but Canada wanted to assist. Even they were limited in what they could do.

His generals advised against it.

“Do you know what this entails?” his head general asked.

“I do.”

“Do you realize, the wrong move isn’t going to help America? It can and possibly will destroy the world.”

“This is going to destroy the world either way,” Petrov said. “The question is do we sit idly by and wait or do something about it? Anything that can stop it. Even if we fail, we failed trying, not burying our heads. This is what they want of us.”

“We know this from rebels. We don’t know this from the country. I don’t get it,” said the general. “If the terms are the same, if everyone else is negotiating, why are we being the black sheep?”

“If they can do this to the United States, what is next? Who is next?”

The general strained a smile on his face. “Sir, China is not trying for world domination.”

“You don’t think? They have the food, half the weapons in the world. If everyone accepts this, they are dominating.” Petrov walked to his desk. “Take a look at the last intelligence from Canada.”

The general joined him and reviewed the items on the desk. One of which was a large map of the United States.

“There are pockets of resistance according to Welch.” He pointed to the map. “And these locations according to our Canadian friends are other locations that are rogue and fighting.”

“Where are the enemy soldiers?”

Petrov smiled. “They are not spread out like wildfire, they are concentrated.”

“Which makes it easier for us,” the general said.

“I sent a memo to you with the detailed idea of what I think we should do in regard to the American general’s request. How we should proceed.”

“I received it and I responded that it was high risk.”

“If it works, then it is worth it.”

“If it doesn’t, will you still say the same?”

“I must believe I would,” Petrov said.

“Alright then,” the general exhaled. “When do we move?”

“Now. Evacuate the major cities. Move people into the shelters, prepare for the worst,” Petrov said. “Once they are secure… we begin. We end this, one way or another. You know what to do. Let us do it.”

There had to be rules of the road, curfews, but Joe wasn’t sure about what they were. There was martial law in his area, no travelling on the roads after ten or before sun up. He assumed it was that way everywhere. He had his delivery order for eight cases of Fat Joe tomatoes, that was all. He was pretty certain that if there was anything else he needed aside from the travel form and order, Mary Lou would have gotten it to him.

She made sure, in so many words, to tell him to leave on Sunday. Which made sense, if Joe drove straight through for twenty-four hours, without stopping to rest, he’d be at least a thousand miles away.

Just on the outside chance that they were searching for him and his travel papers were void, Joe prepared for that. Using what fuel he had remaining on his farm, he filled as many five-gallon square containers as he could. He placed them side down on the bed of the truck and covered them with the crates. He secured those with bungee and then placed his packed back and supplies in the back seat of his truck. He brought water, food, blankets, and everything he could think of to survive in the mountains, should he and Toby need to hide out east. The final piece to go was his gun. He tucked it away under the backseat, praying as he did so, that it would never be found should his truck get searched. By the time he was finished, the sun still hadn’t risen. With a couple hours to go, Joe sat in his reclining chair and closed his eyes.

He fell into a deep sleep, woken by the sound of the ringing phone. It stopped by the time he had jumped up to get it. There was no caller ID so there was no way to know who called. One step away from the phone, Joe jumped from his skin when it rang again. Quickly, he answered.

“Hello.”

Breathing. Rushed, shaky sounding breathing.

“Hello?”

“They’re gone,” Mary Lou whispered. She wasn’t crying, but her voice quivered. “They’re all gone, Joe. Dead.”

“Who? Who is dead?”

“Everyone.”

“Mary Lou, what’s going on?”

“God speed, Joe,” she said.

“Mary Lou.”

Click.

She hung up and Joe put down the phone, grabbed his jacket and his keys, pulled the door closed to his house and hurried to his truck.